In Middle Earth
by zebu-in-a-fez
Summary: Many people have read the Lord of the Rings, but never have they read it this way. They have never met those behind the Fellowship, who dutifully follow them. Welcome to the alternate tale that we call 'In Middle Earth 4'. *NOT A SELF-INSERT FIC*
1. Introduction

Middle Earth: the greatest fantasy ever thought up. A world where trolls and hobbits live. A place where Elves and men live in harmony. A place where dwarves and orcs make their marks.

This fantastic place is being threatened by a mere piece of jewelry. The One Ring's terrible reign is looming over the peaceful land of Númenór.

It all starts with a Hobbit.

But, what happens if that Hobbit needs help?

Join the Fellowship of the Ring, and the Mellonea En'Estel as they fight for the freedom of Middle Earth.

For some, this is their final battle.

Watch them fight to the death to protect those they love most.

Welcome to In Middle Earth! Before the story begins, one thing you need to know: the following people, with the name of their character following their own name, coauthor this story:

Alex (Ectheldor)

Claya (Limwen)

Cricket (A'Lanna

Laura (Annabel)

McGinty (Anduril)

Topaz (Aiwendil and Rhedry)

And here is a brief description of each character:

**Limwen**

**(Human, female, 26 years old)**

Her parents met and lived in Ithilien until 2954, when Mt. Doom erupted again. She is the third child, with one younger and two older brothers. Her father was a Ranger, but her mother worked as a healer, so she spent her life living either at Henneth Annun or Minas Tirith. When her brothers became soldiers in the army, she became a Ranger with her father. Living under the shadow of Mordor has fueled her desire to rid Middle Earth of Sauron's filth, so she goes wherever the resistance is.

**Ectheldor**

**(Elf, male, appears to be 30 years old)**

Born to two elves in East Lorien, near Mirkwood, he has always been in touch with nature. Soon after Sauron's return, his parents left for the Grey Havens, despite Ectheldor's pleadings for them to stay. Ectheldor hates how Saurman has no caring for anyone-or anything-in Middle Earth, so he hopes to help both the people (however much he dislikes those "filthy" dwarves) and the nature in Middle Earth while getting ride of both Sauron and Saruman.

**Aiwendil**

**(Human, female, 25 years old)**

Lives at Minas Tirith, daughter to a blacksmith for the Steward's stables, her mother works in the Steward's household as a cook, has two younger sisters, 16 and 12. Had a brother, 21, in the army, missing, probably dead, but she hasn't given up hope. Also works in the Steward's kitchens with her mother. Because her father was once in the army (as a result of injury he works at the stables) she and her siblings received some weapons training.

**Annabel Took**

**(Hobbit, female, 23 years old)**

Annabel has lived in the charming Shire countryside all her life. Her father is a vegetable farmer, but her mother died of an illness, leaving her to take care of her 3 younger siblings. Money became short in Annabel's family soon after her mother died, and as soon as her younger sister was old enough to take charge of the family, Annabel's father sent her away to the Green Dragon to earn money as a maid. She is very shy and loves to read.

**Andúril Took**

**(Hobbit, female, 32 years old)**

She is the descendant of the Took Clan. Her parents died with Frodo's parents, so Bilbo took them both in.

**Rhedry**

**(Human, male, 26)**

Lives at Minas Tirith, sixth tier. Has two brothers, 13 and 10, and a baby sister, named Gil, Moddyn and Sera respectively. His father, a Ranger in Ithilien, died in the war seven years ago. His mother, Melia, does laundry for some of the people on their tier. Is in the Gondorian army, as a sentry for the 1st tier, but has recently been redeployed to Osgiliath as reinforcement. Is good friends with Aiwendil Kindler and her family.

So there you have the members of the Mellonea En'Estel (the Fellowship of Hope)! As this is a coauthored story, chapter length/writing style may vary, but updates should be fairly consistent.

Let the adventure begin!


	2. Anduril

**Anduril:**

I raced through Mushroom Woods with my long hair flowing behind me. I was as light as a feather.

Behind me, my cousin Peregrine Took - known as just Pippin - chased me with his large stick. We were pretending to be Gandalf fighting his way through the trolls to save Mr. Baggins, my guardian.

Pippin slashed his 'Maiar Staff'. "Take that, troll!" I laughed in a deeper voice than my own, trying to sound like a tired troll. 'Gandalf' stuck his staff in the ground. My friend, Frodo (a distant cousin, who lives with Mr. Baggins and I) cowered on the ground, screaming about being struck by lightning.

"Pippin!" We all heard the call from our other cousin, Merry. Pippin crossed his arms dejectedly. He was only eleven, so he was awfully short. We always gave him Gandalf so that he could feel better.

"What is it, Merry?" Pippin's shrill and young voice pierced the woods.

"Your mother wants you, and she sounds angry," came the response. Merry was about six years older than Pippin, so he was quite young as well. Frodo was the oldest of our little gang. I was only six months younger, but he liked to lord it over me since I was a girl. Frodo and I shared the same back story. Our parents had drowned in the same accident just a few years before.

Pippin's eyes bugged out of his head, and he wiped some blueberry pie off his lips. "The pie! Merry! Tell her I didn't eat the pie!" Frodo and I turned to each other and burst into fits of laughter as we chased Pippin back to Hobbiton, and his impending doom.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. We were all so young, so innocent. Frodo was able to smile, and Pippin was carefree. That was before I had suitors knocking on the door. It's not that I don't like having young hobbits coming to the door to ask me to dinner! All the young men DO come to the doors. They're all TOO young. They have yet to reach their thirty-third birthday, which I have looming ahead of me in the near future.

Well, some of the suitors are older than me. What I'm trying to say is that none of them are right. That's simply it. I'm a girl with only one female friend. Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Annabel (another cousin), and the gardener - his name's Sam, and he's really sweet - are all my companions. I'm fine with that, but I've gotten used to being with guys, and I'm not very girly.

I look around Mushroom Woods, remembering that day. I am thirty two now, and still quite young.

The tree branches swayed in the midnight breeze. The silver moonlight shone through the foliage, and danced onto my face. I like to retreat into the woods late at night for peace and solace. I learned at a young age that the Baggins house is considered the worst house in Hobbiton. Everyone thinks that we disturb the peace. Thing is, we're the only Hobbits who have any wish to travel around Middle Earth. I don't want to spend my life sitting in Bag End. I want to see Elves and Dwarves (not at the same time, since they hate each other) and Men and Maiar! I have never seen any race but my own, and Gandalf the Grey. Though, tall people do intimidate me... I'd meet them just to satisfy my curiosity. The other Hobbit women are content staying where they are. I know I'm not a Baggins, but I was raised by one.

A rabbit hops in front of me. I watch it as it runs. If only I could run like one of them! To dance through the world without a care.

I glance up at the sky again. It is later than I thought. I know that Frodo and Mr. Baggins are sleeping, and I worry that they may find out I am gone. I don't like to tell them where I am going. I like having some control. I slip through the woods, back into town. I cross over the small bridge separating the land, and I race up the hill into Bag End. I pass Annabel as I go by her house. She is sitting on her hill. I walk over to her slowly.

"Hello, cousin," I say as I sit beside her.

"Oh, hello," she says. "

What is wrong, dear heart?"

"I am ever so tired, but I fail to find rest. The Green Dragon has sapped all the happiness from me."

"Did old Bruster Tyke make jokes at you again, cousin?"

"Yes, he did." I redden. "He has no right! I shall hurt him if he does it again."

She holds my arm and leans her head against my shoulder. "No, dear cousin. I shall be fine. I can handle it, just so long as I have a book. I am going to Bilbo tomorrow to get another book from him." Annabel is the only other girl Hobbit I know who can read. She is very smart.

"I am so sorry, love." I hug her. "I must leave you, now. The hour grows late." Annabel hugs me back. "Thank you for your company!" I wave and rush away back home.

When I reach the outside of the door, Frodo is standing in front of it with his arms crossed. I look down. "Andúril, what has Uncle Bilbo told you about leaving?"

Right. I forgot to mention that I am not to leave the Hobbit Hole unattended at night. "Well, Frodo, he doesn't like my being out," I whispered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Why were you out and about, then?" I look up at him and peer into his large blue eyes. The moonlight casts silver shadows onto his face. "I needed to get away," I state simply.

Frodo smiles slightly, showing the gap in his front teeth. "You had one of those dreams again, didn't you?" He uncrosses his arms and sticks his hands in his pockets. He leans against the door.

"I did."

"Which was it?"

"Mr. Baggins disappeared in my dream, and never came back. I know something is afoot, Frodo!"

Frodo sighs. "You always are saying that, and nothing happens."

"No! This time I'm sure of it! This time, I was given the date!"

"Oh, really." Frodo sounds very sarcastic.

"Yes, really. And I don't appreciate your tone, Frodo Baggins."

"When is it?"

"Your birthday. This year. There was a cake behind him! You mustn't tell him what I suspect, though. He'll do it on purpose."

Frodo shakes his head as if he were an older brother chiding a child. "Andúril, you are a strange girl." He extends his arm to me and opens the door. "I say you should get inside to bed." He puts his hand on my shoulder blade and guides me inside. I allow him. He'll be sorry when Mr. Baggins disappears.


	3. Aiwendil

**Aiwendil:**

I entered the kitchen of our home on the sixth tier of Minas Tirith. My sisters were eating their breakfast, I sat down at the table next to my youngest, Dassa.

"Aren't you going to eat something?" She asked me, her big green eyes looking at me with concern.

"No, I'm not hungry." I replied. My other sister, Ethiwem, looked at me. She always knew when something was not right.

"Are you sure? Perhaps if you just had a piece of bread?" Ethiwem offered one to me. I shook my head and rose.

"I must get to the Steward's house. I'm sure Mother is waiting impatiently for me." I kissed Dassa on the top of her head, and smiled at Ethiwem. "I'm alright, really." I said, then I left. I took my cloak from its hook on the hall and wrapped it around my shoulders. I stepped out into what little sunshine was left, since the dark cloud hanging over Mordor to the east started forming. I glared at the cloud. So many good men died because of it. Because of the evil it was spreading over the world. I shook my head and started walking toward the gate to the seventh tier. On the way I stopped by the Steward's stables, to see my father. He was working at his anvil, pounding out a new horseshoe, probably for the grey gelding standing placidly behind him.

"Hello Aiwendil!" he said. He stopped pounding on the shoe and put into the barrel of water next to him. "Kind of you stop by," he sat on a stool next to the anvil.

I smiled. "I didn't come to see you," I joked. Father laughed. I liked it when he laughed, the cloud overhead seemed to dissipate every time he did.

"No, I'm sure you didn't! Ah, well, even if I am your father, I suppose I cannot take all your attention." His blue eyes sparkled with laughter. The wrinkles around his face almost disappeared when he was smiling. "Come, let us see the creature that has stolen you away." He got up and we walked together to one of the stables. We stopped at the third stall on the right, I looked inside. There he was, my beautiful Elros. Tall and sleek, black as night with not a single white mark on him but one, a star on his forehead.

I entered the stall. "Hello, my beauty," I whispered. Elros nudged my dress pocket. He knew where I had his sugar cubes. "Here," I said, taking one and holding it out to him. The whiskers on his lips tickled my palm. I softly petted his neck. My father had given him to me at my last birthday, my 25th. He had said that he was tired of seeing me look pathetic every time I saw a horse, so he finally bought me Elros. The Steward was kind enough to let us keep Elros in the royal stables. I was keenly aware that I was indebted to the Steward, and that my father had spent too much to buy me Elros.

After spending a few precious moments with Elros, I left the stall and walked with my father back to his workplace.

"You should be getting to the kitchens now, love," said Father, "You don't want to be very late." He kissed my cheek and we parted. I looked at the sun. He was right! I was going to be late, if I didn't hurry. I ran to the gate that led to the top of Minas Tirith. The gatekeeper nodded to me as I ran by. I was in too much of hurry to acknowledge him then. I kept running until I reached the door that led into the kitchens. Gasping for breath, I took my cloak off and opened the door.


	4. Limwen

**Limwen:**

It was the crack of dawn at Henneth Annun. The tips of the trees were ignited with sunlight. It was too early for any songbirds to be awake, so all was quiet- even the waterfall seemed to be more peaceful than usual. The rising sun was hitting the falls perfectly, so the Window on the West appeared to be made of fire instead of water.

I believe I would have enjoyed this more if Damrod had not woken me up with a bucket of ice water.

Spluttering and coughing as water dripped down the back of my tunic, I sat up and glared at Damrod.

"Valar, Damrod! What was that for?" I yelled.

"It was time for you to wake up," he said, smiling innocently.

"All you needed to do was tap my shoulder! You didn't have to use an entire bucket of water!"

"But there's someone here to see you! This method was...more efficient."

I grumbled something about Damrod being the spawn of Morgoth before drying my face off with the edge of my cloak and standing up. I would have to get revenge later, after I met this visitor. That a visitor was even here was surprising- there were few people outside of the Rangers that knew the way to Henneth Annun.

Damrod and I walked past the rest of the sleeping rangers and into the front room. A tall man was looking at the waterfall. Even though he was across the room, I could tell he was wearing standard Gondorian armor.

I ran the rest of the way to him. "Is that...?"

The man turned around and grinned at me. He had hair as dark as mine, that came down to his shoulders. He had a rough beard, twinkling grey eyes, and a smile as wide as the Anduin. He was my oldest brother, Thalion.

He bowed jokingly. "My fair lady Limwen! It has been too long!"

I smiled, and pretended to curtsy. "I agree, my lord! It is wonderful to see you! What brings you to Henneth Annun?"

"Our dear parents have returned from Lossarnach, and have requested our presence before they return to their posts in the Houses of Healing."

"Ah. I might have guessed, Lord Thalion. We must make haste- they do not like to be kept waiting!"

"Ahem."

Damrod was back beside me, with a riding pack in his hand. "I packed this for you before I woke you. It has all the supplies you will need before you reach Minas Tirith."

I took the pack from him. "That was very generous of you. Perhaps I will forgive you for my...awakening."

Damrod didn't say anything, but I could tell that he was trying hard not to laugh. I stared hard at him. "The operative word was 'perhaps'."

Thalion was staring at me, too. "Why are you wet, Limwen?"

I met his glance. "You may ask Damrod later."

…

Minutes later, Thalion and I were on our horses outside Henneth Annun. The sun had risen higher, and the birds had awakened. For a moment, we enjoyed their songs and the view of Ithilien.

"We should go," Thalion finally said. "Maeron and Feredir are waiting for us."

"Maeron and Feredir are here too?" I said incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask!" Thalion laughed. "They are just an hour's ride away...would you care to race me?"

I gasped in mock astonishment. "Did you hear that, Veryan?" I said as I bent down close to my horse's ear. "Thalion thinks that he and his old nag can beat us in a race!"

Thalion patted his bay's neck. "A nag! Melda and I would leave you in the dust! "

A wry smile crossed my face. "Well, Veryan here could-"

I flicked the reins, and Veryan shot off down the trail.

Behind me, I could hear Thalion yell, "That was a dirty trick!" before Melda came cantering after us.

We raced through the woods. I had the advantage- I knew the trees well, and could navigate with little difficulty. Thalion and Melda had a little more difficulty weaving around the unfamiliar landscape.

The wind was rushing in my face, chilling my skin where the cold water remained. This was a moment of pure bliss- the beautiful trees surrounding me, the powerful strides of my stallion beneath me, my beloved brother beside me.

I couldn't imagine anything better.

Eventually the trees began to thin out as we reached the edge of Ithilien. With a triumphant shout, Thalion urged Melda on through the wider grasslands. I laughed aloud and drove Veryan ahead. It was an unusually sunny day; the dark cloud of Mordor was almost invisible against the blue sky.

On the horizon, I could see two mounted figures riding towards us. It must be my brothers, Maeron and Feredir.

Thalion tried to cut me off, pulling ahead by a few feet. "Aha!" he yelled over his shoulder.

I grinned and kicked Veryan's flanks. The horses seemed as pleased as I was- both were tossing their heads and whinnying happily as they sprinted over the ground.

"Hurry, Melda!" I heard Thalion yell. "She's gaining on us!"

"Yes, run! Run away!" I yelled back as Veryan closed the gap between us.

Now we were neck and neck, charging over the grasslands towards my other brothers.

Maeron and Feredir had stopped. They were just 100 feet away...50 feet...25...

"Woah, boy!"

Thalion and I pulled back on the reins as we halted in front of my brothers. Maeron was 24, only a year my elder, but he seemed years ahead in terms of wisdom. Feredir was younger at 19, yet he was still much taller than I. At a glance, they seemed more like twins than brothers five years apart, though Maeron's hair was wavier, and Feredir's beard was little more than peach fuzz.

"I believe I won," I said as I twisted in the saddle to look at Thalion.

"It wasn't a fair race! You know this country...and you got a head start!"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Inconsequential. I am still the winner."

Thalion mumbled something, but didn't dispute my claim.

"That was some ride," Maeron said. "You almost made my heart stop- I wasn't sure you were going to slow down in time!"

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself," Feredir remarked.

"It was quite satisfying, thank you," I said. "I always relish the chance to beat my older brother. Though I don't think Melda could handle another race, brother dearest," I said to Thalion. "She's already winded, while Veryan looks ready to run for another hour or so."

"Hey!" Thalion pretended to look offended, while Maeron and Feredir snickered.

Maeron turned to look back across the plain. "I'm glad you think so, little sister. We have a two day journey back to Minas Tirith, and we don't want your little foal wearing out too soon."

This of course made Thalion laugh heartily, and he thumped Maeron in the arm. "Well said, brother! Well said!"

I narrowed my eyes at Maeron, which made Thalion laugh even harder.

I decided it was time for the little sister to get back at the older brother. I slipped my hand into Damrod's riding pack, feeling around for...aha!

While they were laughing, I pointed to the sky and shrieked as high as I could. "What is THAT?"


	5. Annabel

**Annabel:**

The cold night air seeped through my clothes and bit my skin like icy teeth. My whole body was numb, but I kept scrubbing the floor as I had been doing for six months now. To my left, Violet Bolger was clearing away shards of broken glass. The sound of her chattering teeth filled the night. As maids at the Green Dragon, it was our job to clean up the inn after the drunken revelers had had the run of the place. We worked quickly so we could go to bed as soon as possible.

"Hurry up, you lazy rats!" snapped Drogrin, the barman who supervised us. I scrubbed harder at the uneven floorboards. Poor Violet cried out as she pricked her finger on a piece of glass.

"Useless wretch!" Drogrin roared and slapped Violet's cheek. She didn't make a sound. If she did, we'd both be punished.

We worked in silence for what I guessed was an hour, until Drogrin finally grunted and gave us permission to leave. I picked up my bucket and mop and stowed them in their cupboard, then hurried to bed. Once I was safely under the blankets and away from the world of hard work and cruel masters, I smiled to myself. Tomorrow was my day off!

…

I woke at my own pace (usually I was woken by Cook clashing a spoon against a frying pan), sunshine pouring in through me and Violet's small bedroom window. I got out of bed quickly, for today I planned to visit my cousins in Hobbiton. Frodo and Andúril were the only friends I had (except perhaps Violet) and my visits to their Uncle Bilbo's home Bag End were my greatest joy in life. I threw on my clothes, then grabbed an apple from the kitchens as I bolted for the door. Shouts of "THIEF!" followed in my wake, but I didn't care. Today was for me, not anyone else.

I enjoyed the walks to Hobbiton as much as the visits. Birds sang in the trees, and my feet thumped out a cheerful rhythm. "The road goes ever on and on..." I sang, pausing occasionally to take big bites out of my apple. I marveled at the fact that I was happy. I was never happy! A cluster of lumpy hills and small buildings soon appeared in the distance: Hobbiton. It was very different to my home in Tuckborough, yet it was so welcoming. Hobbit-children screamed and shouted as they chased eachother through the streets, and one almost ran into me. He was off running again before I could apologize. I could see Bilbo's shiny green front door even from a great distance, and as I walked up the Hill it seemed to grow even rounder and brighter, as if calling to me. When I was closer, I realized that Frodo was sitting on the front steps.

"Hello Annabel!" he called when he saw me. "Andúril! Annabel's here!"

Andúril came bounding out of the front door to greet me. As I was hugged and questioned almost to death by Andúril, I thought to myself: "This is my real home."


	6. Anduril 2

**Anduril:**

I hear Frodo calling me from outside.

"Andúril! Annabel is here," is what he said.

"Coming," I call out to him. I put a stray strand of hair behind my ear and check myself in the mirror. I could pass for average, in my opinion. I shrug at myself, and walk to the large green door.

During the visit, I make sure Annabel is having a good time at work. I ask her questions - just a few, mind you - about how things are going. I am satisfied after about thirty minutes.

Frodo just sits back and listens. He does that a lot of the time. He's satisfied with that, while I just love to discuss things with people.

Annabel is very introverted around most people. I'm one of the few people that she knows that she'll laugh with. She likes to spend time with our group.

I excuse myself after an hour of talking to go make us something to eat. A Took can't go too long without eating!

While I cook, I picture what like would be like if I had a mother. She would be my best friend, and she'd laugh with me. She'd also know what to do about my suitor problem. I don't want to marry yet! Not while I have an adventure right in front of me.

Most Hobbit women would love to be married by now, but I don't. I want to be married, yes, but I cannot do it now. I owe something to my family that I cannot give as a wife. I do not expect anyone to understand.

I look to the side of the pantry where Elvish words are written. I remember when Mr. Baggins taught Frodo and I some of those odd letters. We could speak a little Elvish, but we don't say anything about it too often. The other Hobbits worry about our sanity enough. Though, I do love to throw out a word or two to Frodo, just to see if he still remembers the ancient language.

I see a pebble hit the window. I gasp, and nearly drop spoon in my hand. Furlough Tuck's face pops up in the window. He waves.

I scoff. Furlough is one of my suitors. He is my least favorite, yet he insists on stopping by every day. Even if it's just enough time to knock on my window and wave, like he just did.

I turn away from him, ignoring his existence. Then, I carry the soup I finished out to Frodo and Annabel.

"Hannon lle," Frodo thanks me in Elvish as he accepts his soup.

I grin. "Lle creoso," I respond.

Annabel just smells her soup and take a long sip. "Thank you, cousin," she says after a long while.

"You're welcome." I sit down with my own bowl.

We pick at our meal.

After a few seconds, Frodo looks up.

"So, did you get a visit today?"

I stare angrily at my soup. "Of course. I really wish he'd stop."

"I think," Annabel chimes in, "That he must be lonely. I hear that his parents are dead as well."

I nod. "Yes, they are."

I am very uncomfortable. Furlough is an annoyance and an embarrassment. Frodo often teases that he will be the one I marry.

I take a spoonful of soup, choking back my anger and fear.

Annabel puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Cousin, tell me what ails you," she says.

I stifle a sob in my hand. Then another. Soon, my body is wracking with sobs. I am ashamed of myself, but I cannot stop.

"Why can't I just be left alone?" I can't stop the hot tears.

Annabel pushes my soup aside, and hugs me. That is why I love her so much. She knows just exactly what to do for me. She is a good cousin. Very close to a sister, actually!

As I weep, she does not stop holding me.

Frodo sits awkwardly for a few minutes. He doesn't see me cry too often.

Annabel looks up at him. "Help her," she said. "She could use another hug."

We stand, just the three of us, hugging while I cry. I stop crying after a while.

"I am so sorry," I say as I wipe my eyes. "I am so ashamed of my tears. Please accept my apologies."

Annabel pulls back. "Don't be sorry, cousin! You have a right to cry."

"Yes, you do. You must be so tired with being bothered by Furlough, aren't you?" Frodo steps out of the hug.

I nod. That's not the full reason, but it's all I let him know.

I sigh.

"Your soup is getting cold." I point to Annabel's soup. It used to have steam rising out of it, but it now has petered out.

Frodo sees his own soup. He picks it up and takes a spoonful.

"It's still warm," he says.

Annabel takes her own soup.

I pick my bowl up and have it finished in ten minutes.

Conversation has stopped. We are trying to forget my breakdown. I inwardly hate myself for being the root of the problem.

…

Annabel stays for ten minutes more before she has to leave for the Green Dragon. Frodo and I offer to walk with her, and have dinner among friends, but she declines. She knows we're just offering it to be kind. It's two hours away from dinner, and I have food set aside for it anyways.

She bids us a heartfelt goodbye, and in moments is gone.


	7. Aiwendil 2

**Aiwendil:**

Walking in, I am nearly knocked over by someone carrying a tray. I manage to avoid a collision, and go over to my place next to my mother, who is the head of the kitchen. A very prestigious position, for she is the one who goes to the Steward everyday and learns from him what is wanted from the kitchen that day. I accompany her, carrying trays of food for the Steward to sample. After he is finished selecting and giving orders we go back to the kitchen and start to prepare the food. My mother has placed me in charge of preparing these trays.

"You're late," Mother says severely.

I nod. "I know, Mother. I'm sorry." I busy myself with the trays.

Mother looks at me curiously. "You have been to see that horse again?" she asks.

I avoid her eyes. "Yes."

"Honestly, Aiwendil! You know you cannot be dawdling with that creature when you have work to do! " she exclaims. Although, when I look up, she is trying to suppress a smile.

"Do not mistake me, dear. I am glad you are happy." Now she does not try to stop the smile. "However, we must get to work, I hear the Steward's sons will be arriving soon, and he will surely want us to make something special."

I look up sharply. "His sons? They are coming home? When? " I question. She sighs.

"I don't know, dear. All I know is that he is expecting them, or news of them. Now hurry get to work." There is a clatter on the other side of the kitchen. "Oh, what have those silly maids done now?" She mutters, off she goes to see what happened, leaving me to contemplate what she said.


	8. Annabel 2

**Annabel:**

Before I knew it, the time to laugh with Andúril, talk with Frodo and borrow books from Bilbo was over. To add to my misery, it had begun to drizzle. I was soaked to the skin by the time I reached the outskirts of Hobbiton. Warm yellow light spilled out of hobbit-hole windows as I passed them, and I thought of home. Home, being my father's small house in Tuckborough, bore happy memories of roast vegetables, games of tag and stories by the fireplace on winter evenings. But it was also the scene of my mother's death. "Don't think about her, Annabel," I told myself, "You'll only make this confounded walk more miserable." But I couldn't help dwelling on the fact that if my mother was alive, I wouldn't be here. I'd be at home, in a warm house, surrounded by family. I'd never have been sent to the Green Dragon. I wouldn't be walking away from Hobbiton in the rain. But I put these thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on keeping my book dry. Every time I came visiting in Hobbiton, I borrowed a new book from Bilbo. Books were my favourite things in the world. I loved how they could pick you up, plop you down in another world and only send you back home when you decided to close the covers. But, the covers would go mushy unless I kept them out of the rain. I shoved the book under my coat and ran full-pelt along the muddy road, not stopping until I reached the Green Dragon. I was quite out of breath by then. Dragging my aching feet up the steps, I knocked on the door.

Mrs Chubb, an older maid, opened it. "Look at the state of you, Annabel! Where HAVE you been?"

"Hobbiton," I said sheepishly.

"Visiting your cousins, were you?"

"Yes, Mrs Chubb."

"Well, you'd better come in and get dry. Those hobbits from Buckland have been in again. You know what a mess they make..." She stomped off towards the kitchens, muttering as she went. I shut the door behind me, and hurried to the bedroom I shared with Violet and two other maids. I quickly pulled off my dress and coat, replacing them with a dry dress, and quietly set to work. The more fortunate maids cleaned the rooms upstairs, but Violet and I had the unpleasant task of scraping vomit and smashed flagons off the floor of the bar. It was difficult work that make your knees bruise and your fingers ache, but it was paid work, and that was all my father cared about. Violet was already scrubbing away at a table. She gave me a small smile that Drogrin couldn't see, and I returned it. Only I wasn't so lucky in avoiding Drogrin.

"What're you smirking at?" he sneered, "I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. You were very late, little lady, and you're going to pay for it."

I mentally braced myself. What 'weapon' was he going to us this time? I didn't dare turn around to look, but the short, sharp pain that surged through my back suggested that it was perhaps a broom handle. I'd never told Andúril about these beatings. I didn't want her to worry - besides, a strong-willed hobbit like herself would probably burst in and give Drogrin what he deserved. I secretly would have loved for that to happen. The thought of Andúril smacking Drogrin with a broom was so funny that I allowed myself a smile - and this time, Drogrin didn't see it.


	9. Limwen 2

**Limwen:**

While they were laughing, I pointed to the sky and shrieked as high as I could. "What is THAT?"

Automatically they looked where I was pointing. I had about two seconds. I hurled the apple I had found in the pack as hard as I could at Maeron's horse, aiming just past its nose.

The horse snorted and reared back as the apple streaked past him. This spooked the other horses as well, making them stumble a bit...and throw their riders off kilter.

As my brothers attempted to bring their horses back under control, I flicked Veryan's reins, racing north, in Minas Tirith's general direction. I could hear all the indignant shouts of my brothers, calling me names and trying to get their horses to follow me again.

I just laughed, and let Veryan sprint for a while, before slowing down and letting them catch up.

"I knew it was a ruse," Maeron said when they finally rode up beside me. "You never scream that high accidentally, sister."

"I too knew this was an attempt at revenge," Thalion said. "You have already used this joke on me once today."

"If you all knew it was a ruse, then why did you comply with it?" I laughed. All of them blushed, even Feredir.

"Well, I didn't know until now..." Feredir said humbly. I smiled at him and tousled his hair, making him flush even redder.

"Thank you for your _honesty_, Feredir," I said, looking significantly at Maeron and Thalion. "Your older brothers should learn from you."

Maeron laughed. "That will be the day- when Thalion is humbled by a mere prank!"

Thalion scowled. "Thank you, both of you," he said sarcastically. "May I remind you that Minas Tirith is not getting any closer while we sit here and discuss my virtues?"

He was right, but we all suppressed smiles anyhow. "Lead the way, then, my leige," I said, gesturing towards the trail.

"I will, Lady Limwen," he said as he brushed past me.

Still smirking, the rest of us let him lead the way into the forest.

...

We rode hard for the next eight hours, pausing only occasionally to let the horses have a drink and to speak idly with each other. It was almost midnight before we finally decided to stop for the night. We each tied our own horse to a nearby log in the forest, then Maeron and Thalion went off to gather a little firewood to cook dinner over. They were only gone for a few minutes before they returned with armfuls of dry kindling and a few larger logs.

Feredir pulled out a tinderbox to start a fire. His flint striking the metal made red and yellow sparks light the night briefly, before the darkness settled around us again. Finally, the sparks set the kindling on fire, and we soon had a small campfire roaring. We had a dinner of dried rabbit meat and roasted apples, and one more surprise that Thalion had brought along...

"Ale?" I said incredulously, as he pulled a bottle out of his saddlebag.

Thalion grinned. "Are you old enough for this, Limwen?"

I grimaced at him. "I'd rather avoid the hangover. In case you have forgotten, we have another hard day of riding tomorrow."

"Ah, don't be like that. You know you want some!"

I shook my head. "You are free to douse yourself with as much poison as you want."

"If this is poison, the majority of the Gondorian army must have very strong stomachs!" Maeron said as he accepted a cup from Thalion.

"Here, here!" Feredir cheered as he lifted his own ale.

Thalion held up the bottle. "Are you quite certain you do not want any?"

I raised my eyebrows, and he shrugged.

"More for us, this way," he said as he tipped the bottle into the air. Then he suddenly stopped.

"No! We must drink to something!"

"Hmm...let us drink to our _dear_ mother and father, who are anxiously awaiting our return," Maeron said.

"Cheers!" we all yelled, my brothers drinking their ale, and me sipping water out of my canteen. "

To Minas Tirith!" Feredir yelled.

Again, we all shouted and raised our cups, before drinking again.

"To...The Silver Knife!" Thalion said, referring to Minas Tirith's most popular inn.

"To...Meldiriel!" Maeron yelled. Meldiriel was his lady friend.

As they drank more and more of the ale, their cheers got steadily stranger.

"To the rat catcher's shop!"

"To the prairie chickens of the Pelennor!"

"To Aunt Undiel's mole!"

It was quite amusing, as the last sober person left. I would occasionally offer some cheers, that made them laugh far longer than was necessary. Eventually, they got up and began dancing The Willow Tree, a common dance at formal balls. It was especially interesting because there were only three of them, while the real dance usually required at least 12 people. I laughed and clapped along with them, as they struggled to reproduce the dance. Maeron started humming the dance's tune, while Thalion tried to harmonize with him. Feredir tapped out the rhythm on his tinderbox.

Once they had gone through four bottles of ale, however, I had to put my foot down. We had to get an early start the next morning if we wanted to make it back to Minas Tirith before dark, and I was going to have trouble enough waking them up already. They all grumbled and groaned, but the last sober part of their minds must have agreed with me, because they were asleep on the ground within minutes. I put the fire out by kicking some dirt onto it, and then laid down, using my cloak as a pillow. It took me quite a while to fall asleep, over the unimaginably loud snoring.

...

The next morning came early. I was used to waking up at the crack of dawn, and I wasn't under the influence of alcohol, so I woke up considerably earlier than my brothers. I had packed up our camp and prepared the horses before I finally shook them all awake. It took me much longer than usual, as the ale had completely done them in.

"Is it time to wake already?" Thalion groaned as he rubbed his eyes in an effort to wake up.

"It is past time to wake up! If we want to make it to Minas Tirith before nightfall, that is," I said, a bit tersely as I shook his shoulder. I was anxious to get to Minas Tirith.

He sat up, holding his head in his hands. "You would not believe the headache I am having."

"I warned you last night that we were going to have a long day today," I said, before moving on to wake up the others.

Maeron and Feredir both felt as bad as Thalion, and it took quite a lot of pushing and prodding to get them running.

"You brought this on yourselves," I said. I swung into Veryan's saddle, while the others followed sluggishly.

When they finally managed to get onto their horses, moaning and clutching their heads and stomachs, I set off in the front, leaving them to trail behind me. We rode hard for three hours, before Feredir finally requested a rest. Thalion and Maeron must have agreed with him, because they stopped without complaint. We rested for a few minutes, drinking water and chewing on dried meat before setting off again. We stopped twice more, each at four hour intervals, but eventually, though the sun was setting, we could see the white towers of Minas Tirith.

...

"Limwen!"

My mother and father were waiting for us outside our small home on the third level. My mother's arms were spread wide, and I received her hug gladly. She held me close, and I could smell spices on the apron she was wearing. She must have been cooking a huge meal for us all day. I hugged her back as lovingly as I could.

"All right, it is my turn to see my girl!" My father laid a hand on my mother's shoulder, and she released me with a quick kiss on my cheek.

"Don't take too long, I have dinner on the fire," she said, tapping my father's nose playfully.

Father grinned. "I promise to let her in before dinner, Maiwen."

I elbowed him in the ribs, though the smile on my face showed that I wasn't really annoyed with him. Mother turned to my brothers. "You three, come with me. This food won't prepare itself, and I need all the help I can get!" She walked away, shepherding them all towards the house, clearly in charge, even though they were all much larger than she was.

Father shook his head with a smile, and then placed his hands on my shoulders. He looked into my dark eyes with his own shocking blue ones, and I had a distinct feeling that he was reading my mind, though of course that was impossible. Father had a way of making anyone feel like they were under constant evaluation. It wasn't frightening, however; I loved my father, and always wanted to please him.

Father's thoughts seemed to be far away, even though he held my gaze for several minutes. He was such a prominent figure, with an air of authority around him. He was kind and brave and loyal to both his family and his country. If I ever considered marriage, I would want to have a man such as him. Mother was a lucky woman to have such a husband, and I was lucky to have him as a father.

Eventually he smiled again as he tousled my hair. "You've grown," he said simply. He never had been a man of many words.

"Come along," he said, turning me towards the house. "Your mother has been working all day for this meal."

We walked into the small house, and instantly the wonderful smell of roasted meat greeted me. There was a hint of freshly baked bread in the air, and some scents of cooking vegetables. I paused for a moment, my nose in the air and my eyes closed as I took deep breaths of the heavenly smell. It smelled so nice, I swore I could taste the food on my tongue.

I followed my father to the kitchen, where everyone was already gathered around the table, laughing and talking to each other. I was suddenly overwhelmed with love for my family. What would I ever do without them. As I sat down beside my mother at the table, I smiled, as I was home at last.


	10. Ectheldor

**Ectheldor:**

I lean against the tree, the wind slightly ruffling my hair. My friend, Elwë Nénharma, and I were on guard duty, so we were up in the branches of a tree; while we could see what was going on, nobody else—unless they knew we were up there—could see us. Slinging my bow onto my knees, I call over to my friend, "Elwë, I doubt anything is going to happen."

"Patience, Ectheldor. For all we know, one of Sauron's spys could be coming."

The two of us spit at his name. Rumors had been coming around for a few months now that Sauron had returned and was gathering an army to take over Middle Earth. He also had, apparently, enlisted the help of a powerful Istarí as his right-hand man. At these rumors, many elves had been leaving to the Gray Havens. Despite our frantic pleadings, Elwë's and my parents left also.

Also as a result of these, security in Lothlorien was stepped up. That's why Elwë and I were bored out of our minds. A few minutes later, our shift ended and two other elves took our spots. Elwë and I wandered over to the stables.

Nodding at Silmarwen Nénharma, the stable girl—also Elwë's older sister—Elwë gets on his horse, Aglor (glorious), and I get on Astalder. We head out to one of our favorite clearings in East Lorien.

As we head there, I quietly report to Elwë, "Remember Círdan Ringëril? He lives in Lindon. He reports in his latest letter that seemingly mad people have wandered in, seeking protection from Uruk-Hai. Círdan fears that something bad is going to happen, soon."

"Did he mention how many people have reported these supposed Uruk-Hai?" Elwë quietly asked, jumping off his horse as we arrived at the clearing.

I shake my head no. "He says we should be wary of strangers, however." Elwë nodded gravely. "Strangers have been scarce, probably because of these rumors or something worse."

I continued. "Orcs, or Uruk-Hai." We both shudder as Elwë mentions these incredibly horrible creatures. Little did we know about their movements, and that was what worried us.

"But, let us not worry about this now. They are just rumors." I say. Elwë nods in agreement as he strings his bow, getting ready to practice.

Hopefully, they were just rumors. At best, they would be. At worst...we might all be destroyed. But let us not think of such things.


	11. Aiwendil 3

**Aiwendil:**

"Now," said Mother, coming back from seeing to the maids who dropped some dishes. "Now we can go see my lord Denethor." She nods to me and I pick up the sampler tray I have just finished. We walk up the stairs to the great throne room, my mother speaks to the guard, who then announces us to lord Denethor. We proceed down the long hall lined with statues of the kings of old. I am always in awe at the great men, now dead, lining the hall. I sometimes dream of the days in which Gondor had a king. The Steward said that Gondor needed no king, but I am inclined to disagree, for I feel that in these dark times in which we live now, the people need someone who can lead them with confidence. My father says we need someone like the Steward's eldest son, lord Boromir, to be in charge. That the Stewards should step down, and let a younger man, one who the people love, to be our leader. I, for one, feel that lord Faramir would be a better choice.

I am suddenly brought out of my thoughts when we reach the Steward's throne. My mother kneels, I bow my head, unable to kneel because of the tray. He waves his hand and we rise.

"My lord," says my mother, "we have brought-"

She is cut short by the Steward.

"Take these things away!" He says. I frown. He does not normally dismiss us that quickly. True, he has been of short temper for quite a while, but never has he stopped my mother in her presentation. My mother is, naturally, taken aback. She kneels again and signals to me to take away the tray. I hand it to a servant that is behind me.

"What is it my lord desires, then?" My mother asks. "My son, Boromir, is arriving soon. We must have everything as he would want." The Steward says. My mother bows her head.

"Yes, of course." She turns to leave, knowing what Lord Denethor means.

"What of Lord Faramir?" I ask. The Steward lifts his head and glares at me. Mother turns sharply and looks at me, shocked. I simply raise my head and ask it again.

"What of Lord Faramir? Should we make preparation for him?"

"No, that does not matter." The Steward turns his head away from me. Mother takes my arm and we walk out of the hall.

"What were you thinking, Aiwendil?" She exclaims once out of earshot of the Steward. "How could you?"

"I don't think I did anything very wrong, Mother," I state. She shakes her head.

"No, of course you don't, headstrong child!"

"I am not forbidden from addressing him, I have done nothing that is above my station," I say.

Mother sighs. "That may be, Aiwendil, but you addressed him about a very delicate subject."

Entering the kitchen once again, Mother starts preparations for the arrival.


	12. Limwen 3

**Limwen:**

Three weeks had passed, and I was back in Ithilien. Things were not as peaceful as they had been. Already, there had been two skirmishes with tribes of Haradrim crossing the lands to Mordor. Thankfully, neither of them had been very serious battles, though Damrod had received an arrow to the collar bone. He had just gotten back use of his arm, but he couldn't do any more intense fighting for at least another week.

That is why he and another recovering ranger named Tirion had volunteered as hunters until their injuries completely healed. They were in charge of bringing back meat for the evening meals. This was mostly accomplished with snares Tirion had set up earlier in the week.

I had been invited to come along with them on their daily snare check. As we walked through the forest, Tirion began to tell me about some of the more complex traps he had devised. He was particularly excited about a large trap he had constructed near Ithilien's main path. The booby trap was well hidden, and big enough to snare an entire orc if it were to blunder by.

His talk intrigued me, and I was about to ask him to tell me more, when Damrod suddenly put his arm out in frond of us. Putting a finger to his lips in a gesture for us to remain silent, he motioned towards a dense part of the thicket a few meters away.

I listened carefully until I heard what Damrod had noticed- a soft scuffling sound, followed by a murmured curse.

Tirion touched my arm and whispered quietly in my ear, "I set up one of my orc traps over there! Perhaps you are lucky and will get to see it in action."

Swiftly pulling out his bow and nocking a green feathered arrow, Damrod gestured for us to follow him into the brush. We crouched down and silently stepped into the bushes, all our senses poised as adrenaline rushed into our veins.

Damrod moved to the left, while I went right and Tirion continued ahead, so that we could converge on our enemy from all sides.

Tirion chirped a whippoorwill's call, our signal to appear. Nocking an arrow, I stepped into the clearing, aimed at the snare. And then I stopped, perplexed at first, and then filled with an enormous desire to laugh.

It was not an orc caught in the snare- it was Captain Faramir, strung up by his ankle in a tree, cursing and struggling to get himself free.

As he saw us, Faramir groaned and covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

"Well, what do we have here?" Damrod said mockingly.

"It must be some sort of orc spy!" Tirion said with a laugh, prodding Faramir with his bow.

"Or some new servant of the Dark Lord!" I put in, grinning widely.

"Where do your allegiances lie, creature of darkeness?" said Damrod. He was attempting to sound furious, but a half-suppressed smile kept creeping onto his face.

"Answer him, knave!" Tirion yelled, not even attempting to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Faramir lowered his hands and tried to sound stern, though I could see the smile in his eyes. "You must think you are so clever for snaring your captain."

"The question is...how did you manage to walk into the trap in the first place?" I asked. Damrod and Tirion both lost their composure at once, letting out suppressed snickers at our captain's unfortunate predicament.

"Mm-hmm," Faramir muttered, trying to reach the knot tying him to the tree.

"I don't know if we should free you, Captain. We have to be sure you aren't an impostor pretending to be Captain Faramir," Damrod said, stroking his beard in a pretend thoughtful gesture.

Damrod glanced at me, and then made a slight motion to climb the tree. I hid the grin that had been creeping up on my face, and quickly ascended the tree where Faramir was snared. I tugged on the rope. "Yes, that is a fine knot. I don't think you'll be able to untie it."

Faramir gave me a withering stare, the again tried to reach the knot. "Limwen, be a nice girl and help me out with this-"

He tried to grab the knot.

"-confounded-"

He tried again.

"- _blasted_ -"

He fell back, panting. "Just untie it, please."

Damrod moved forward until he was almost nose to nose with Faramir, his arms crossed across his chest. "All right, 'Captain', it is time for a few questions," he said. A devious smile crossed his face.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Faramir, son of Denethor."

"Where do you hail from?"

"Minas Tirith of Gondor."

"What is your brother's name?"

"Boromir, son of Denethor."

"How long have you been a Ranger of Ithilien?"

"Fifteen years."

"When did you last visit Lossanarch?"

"Five months ago."

"What is the square root of 121?"

"...eleven...?"

"Hmm...what is your favorite flavor of jam?"

Faramir's jaw dropped. "May I ask how this is at all relevant?"

"_I_ know Faramir's favorite flavor of jam. If you are an impostor, you do not. Now tell me what it is!"

Faramir closed his eyes and sighed. "Valar, Damrod. Raspberry."

"Good! Now who is Faramir's second cousin twice removed on his mother's side?"

"Umm..." he thought for a minute. "Would it be...Aradan of Dol Amroth?"

"Yes! Let's see...ah...I know!" A ferocious grin showed itself on Damrod's face.

"Who was it that really filled my boot with honey last winter?"

Faramir's eyes widened. "That is not a fair question."

"I would be willing to bet a barrel of mead that the real Faramir knows who it was."

Faramir bit his lip, then finally answered. "All right, that was me! It had been a slow winter, and you are usually the one who causes trouble, so Anborn and I decided that it was your turn to be the victim of a little mischief, so we stole your boots that night and filled them with honey- oof!"

While he was talking, I had cut the rope in half with a quick slice of my knife. "Questioning is over, it's him," I said.

Damrod was beside himself with happiness. "I knew it! I knew it had to be you! You were giving me strange looks all night! I knew it! I knew it!"

Faramir mumbled something about us being the spawn of Morgoth as he untied the knot around his ankle. "How in Arda did you know what my favorite flavor of jam was?"

Damrod raised his eyebrows. "You always use far too much of it on our field rations."

"What about Aradan?"

"I was improvising at that point."


	13. Anduril 3

**Anduril:**

The day of Mr. Baggins' party comes. It is his eleventy-first birthday!

Annabel and I toil over a large, beautiful cake. We had 'Happy birthday, Bilbo!' in large icing letters.

As we bake, Annabel and I smear each others' faces with icing. When we finish, I am covered with the treat. I lick my lips and grin.

"That was very good, Annabel!" I wipe a small bit from my hair.

Annabel smiles brightly and grabs a towel.

"I am glad you enjoy it, cousin. We shall be very sticky by tonight, though."

I giggle. "Well then, we shall just have to go to the party that way!"

We laugh together as we mop ourselves clean.

Our friend, Sam (the gardener aforementioned) sidled into the room.

"Well, hello, Samwise!" I give him my best smile.

"Hello, Andúril," Sam says as he nods his head to me. "Hello, Annabel."

Annabel bobs her head shyly to him.

"I'm here to pick up the cake for the party." Sam turns to the cake. "What kind of work is this? I have never seen a cake more beautiful than this one!" He over-exaggerates his voice.

Annabel reddens. "Why, thank you, Sam!" I walk to the other side of the cake. "Do you need help carrying it out?"

Sam laughs. "I'd love some help. Mister Frodo was going to help me carry it out, but he had a pressing matter."

I roll my eyes, giggling. "He must have gone to the woods!"

Sam and I carry the cake to his house for safe keeping. We don't want Mr. Baggins to find it before the party.

When we put the cake in the kitchen, Frodo comes rushing in.

"Sam! Sam! Sam!" Frodo calls through the Hobbit Hole. "

Yes, Mister Frodo?" Sam puts his head out the kitchen door. "We're in the kitchen!"

Frodo comes running into the room. "Andúril! Good thing you're here, too! Now I don't have to say it twice!"

"Say what twice, Frodo?" I cock my head to the side.

"Gandalf the Grey has come back to the Shire!"

…

It was true. Frodo had talked to him just moments before. Gandalf is visiting Bilbo while Frodo explains his story to us.

At the party, I once again lay eyes on the legendary figure that is Gandalf the Grey. His eyes are a piercing blue, and he is very very tall. His hair is long and the color of salt and pepper. He is wearing a long grey robe, and he is holding a tall wooden staff. Something bright glows at the top. It looks both blue and white at the same time. I cannot stop looking up to it.

Gandalf notices me looking up at him, and walks up to me. "Oh, Andúril," he says very nonchalantly. "It is very good to see you again. You've gotten bigger!"

I laugh. "That happens, sir. I am not a child any longer."

"I can see that. You're getting close to your thirty-third, aren't you!"

"Yes I am!

"But, let us not focus on a date that is many months away. Let us think of Bilbo and Frodo's birthday. It is very important to them."

Gandalf nods. "Yes. Young Frodo has finally become fully grown."

"And Mr. Baggins hasn't aged a bit as well," I add.

Gandalf gets a funny look in his eyes.

"Yes, you are correct. Bilbo is still quite young in the face."

"We find him very fortunate." I smile.

I look over at Bilbo and Frodo as they dance around the party tree. Frodo catches my eye and waves. I wave back to him.

Gandalf looks very jolly when I turn back to him. His cheeks are round and red.

I sigh and look up at the lights in the tree. They are so lovely. "I remember the first time I saw the tree lit up," I say, savoring the moment.

"Oh?"

"I was but a little child. Hobbiton held a party to welcome Frodo and I to our new home. They wanted to make us feel better, even though our parents had died."

I sucked in a breath, recalling the pain I had felt that day. "I missed them so much! I didn't want to leave the Hobbit Hole."

"You are very lucky you did leave, though," Gandalf said.

"Yes, I am." That was the day I met Gandalf. He made a tiny firework for me in his palm.

I shake my head, going back into the present.

A large firework looms over my head, and flies down upon us in the shape of a large dragon.

I hear Pippin screaming like he had been shot.

Gandalf looks down at me.

"They got into the fireworks," we say together.

Gandalf runs to the fireworks tent to get Merry and Pippin.

Frodo comes over to me slowly with his arms crossed. A big smile is pasted on his face.

"Hello, Frodo!" I grin.

"Hey, Andúril," he says. "Are you having fun?"

"Of course I am! What kind of a question is that, Frodo Baggins?" I laugh.

Frodo shakes his head, grinning. "One I'm glad you answered."

I twist a strand of my red curls in my fingers as I so often do.

"Why do girls do that?" Frodo asks. I look down at my hair, and realize that I was twirling it!

"It's a habit," I say. "It gives our fingers something to do besides just stay where they are."

"Well, they seem to do it a lot around the guys," Frodo replies, looking confused. "And they don't do it talking to other girls."

"Well," I say, removing my fingers from my hair, "Girls do it around guys that they like to help distract them."

He nods and smiles.

I then realize what I had said. Oh, well. He's too daft to have heard it!

Annabel walks up to us. She has a keg of beer in each hand. The Green Dragon insignia is pasted boldly in the glass.

"Beer, Frodo and Andúril?" She bobs a quick curtsy.

I hate it when she has to be a barmaid. She is ever so unlike herself.

"Of course," Frodo says as he takes a keg.

I consider whether or not I should take one. In the end, I'm too thirsty to say no.

As Annabel walks away, I see the slump if her shoulders. She is constantly picked on for being a 'lowly barmaid'. I wish the worst for those who think that.

People say I mother-hen my family members too much. But Pippin is still a child. He is far too young to be allowed a lot of freedom.

I remember once again that day in the woods. Was it really only ten years ago? I was so young, so small! Pippin hasn't changed much, but Frodo, Merry, and I have. Frodo is fully grown, and I am nearly so.

Frodo sits down beside where I am standing, and beckons me to sit next to him.

I gladly take the seat, and take a sip of my ale. It's warm and bubbly.

Mr. Baggins takes his place up on top of another table.

I gasp. My dream was coming into play.

I grab Frodo's arm, fearing the worst. I can feel him tense up as he realizes that I predicted this.

After a few words, Frodo relaxes.

Then I felt him jump.

Bilbo Baggins, our guardian, had vanished before our eyes!


	14. Aiwendil 4

**Aiwendil:**

After our day is done, after Mother and I finish most of preparations for the arrival of the Steward's sons, she and I start to walk home. As we pass the stables I stop. Mother walks a few steps ahead before she realizes I'm not with her. She glances back.

"Oh Aiwendil! Very well. Be home before dark." I smile. She shakes her head walks on. I run into the stable yard and toward the stall of my beautiful Elros. As I enter the stable he's in, I hear a whinny and I see him stick his head out of the stall. I stop and put my head to his forehead.

"Hello again." I whisper. Elros lips the top of my dress. I giggle, then gasp. I am not wearing my riding clothes!

"Curses!" I exclaim. Elros shakes his head and stomps his foot. I sigh, knowing that I would have to run to my home and back again, but by that time it would be too late to ride. Then I hear a noise behind me and turn my head to see my father. He is smiling, and holding a bundle of clothes.

"I thought you would come back," he said, holding out the bundle. I grin and take it. "Just remember your own clothes next time!" He laughs. I laugh too.

"Thank you, Father!"

He grins. "Go, you can use the grain room to change."

I hug him and run to the grain room, which is empty except for the stable cat. A little calico, which mews at me as I close the door and quickly switch clothes. I hurry out of the grain room in my riding breeches, which belonged to my brother, loose shirt and boots, rushing to saddle Elros. I start toward the saddle room, but my father calls to me.

"I have saddled him for you! Come, I will help you up."

I am on Elros and guiding him to the arena at the back of the stable yard, the only place I can ride without going outside of Minas Tirith, which is dangerous. As long as you stay in the immediate area around the walls, you are safe. but go out toward Osgiliath and the danger is extreme. I wish I could go outside the walls, to just let Elros have the reins and run as fast as he could across the Pelennor Fields. Oh, how wonderful that would be!

"Hello, Aiwendil!"

I am brought out of my dream to one of the soldiers, Rhedry, who is a friend of my brother's and mine.

"Hello, Rhedry." I answer. "Exercising Geomyr, I see."

"Yes, he was a little fidgety today. How are you?" He asks, looking at me with his big green eyes. We have our horses standing opposite each other.

"I am doing well," I smile, "how do you fare?"

He looks down at his reins. "I am well."

I cock my head to the side, trying to see his face. He looks down when something is wrong.

"Come now," I say, "I have known you since we were able to walk! I know when you are not being truthful."

He sighed. My age, he was newly entered into Gondor's military. He has dark hair, slightly curly, with a little scar across his cheek, suffered when he and my brother were little boys and my brother knocked Rhedry off his horse with a wooden sword. It does make an impression to the other soldiers, especially when Rhedry 'eloborates' the story.

"I am being sent to Osgiliath's front tomorrow," he says quietly.

"Oh."

I bite my lip. Elros stomps his foot, eager to run before having to go back to his stall. I pat his neck.

"Aiwendil?" Rhedry now tries to meet my eyes, which I avoid.

"You are going to war. Tomorrow." I say. I knew it had to happen at some point. His going to war; but Osgiliath? Perhaps the most dangerous front in Gondor.

"Yes," he says frowning. "Are you all right?"

I sigh. First my brother, now Rhedry, who is like a brother to me.

"Yes, I, just..." I stop, starting to choke up. I never cry, or at least I try not to in front of other people.

I dismount from Elros and start leading him back to the stable, not feeling like riding anymore. Rhedry dismounts from Geomyr and walks with me. I still avoid looking at him, knowing he would see my tears.

"I know you weren't expecting this so soon, neither was I! I'm sorry Aiwendil."

I stop. Elros nudges my pocket, looking for sugar.

"It's not your fault, Rhedry. It's the darkness." I look up at the cloud, lightning flashes, and I close my eyes. I feel Rhedry take my hand. I open my eyes and see him looking at me, surprised at seeing my tears. I laugh because he looks so funny. He smiles awkwardly and I suddenly want to hug him. That surprises him even more. He drops Geomyr's reins, who takes the opportunity to walk toward a hay bale near the fence of the arena, and starts eating. I stop crying, and pull out of the embrace. I wipe my eyes. Rhedry looks down at his boots.

"You will see me off tomorrow, won't you?" he asks.

I nod. "Of course I will."

Rhedry looks around for Geomyr. We see him eating the hay and we both start laughing. Elros whinneys and pulls at his reins, wanting to join his friend.

I pat his nose.

"Come on, Elros. Let us get you some grain."

I lead him to back to the stable and rub him down a little, then I put him in his stall. All the while Rhedry is catching Geomyr and doing the same.

Finishing, I go the grain room to find my other clothes. I pick them up and stand there awhile, thinking about Rhedry going to war. He had only been in a few skirmishes, he isn't a great swordsman, but he was a very skilled bowman. Most likely that is the regiment he is in. I grab a bucket and fill it with grain taking it to Elros. He dips his head into the bucket and starts to eat. I pet his head and close the stall.

I start to leave and reach the stable gates when I hear Rhedry running to catch me. I slow and wait for him.

"May I see you home?" He asks. I nod. We fall in step together and are silent till we reach my house and we say goodnight. I watch as he leaves, wondering if, after tomorrow, I will ever see him again. I have lost my brother, I don't want to lose Rhedry.


End file.
